


What Comes After

by SlimeQueen



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Afterlife, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Making Out, OT3, Pining, Polyamory, Reaper Yukhei, pre-established Markhyuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-04-14 08:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14132262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimeQueen/pseuds/SlimeQueen
Summary: Yukhei is, essentially, an Uber driver for the dead. He’s always thought becoming a reaper was the best option for him, but a beautiful boy pining for lost love may make him change his mind.(Or, Yukhei falls in love. Twice.)





	1. [YUKHEI]

**Author's Note:**

> i raise yall this: Mark AND hyuck AND yukhei  
> Please don't repost my works on any other website without my permission!

Yukhei is so glad he doesn’t have lungs anymore.

The city is smoggy, the cloudy, dirty air filling the inside of the car when the door opens. He grimaces as the scent of gasoline and trash reaches his nose.

A boy slips into the back of the car. He looks around with wide eyes, taking in the dark sleek interior of the car, and when he finally stops on Yukhei, he says, “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

His voice is quiet, somewhat contemplative. It peaks Yukhei’s curiosity. He’s never seen this kind of reaction before.

“Yes,” Yukhei admits. He looks in the rearview mirror, takes his time actually examining the boy this time. He’s built slender, lips thin and dark eyes wide, brows gently arched over them, giving him a perpetually surprised look.

The boy shifts forward, and Yukhei’s hands tighten automatically on the wheel. He’s used to tantrums and confusion, and he braces himself for that.

Instead, he touches Yukhei’s shoulder with slim fingers, rubbing the material of his black jacket between his fingers. “But you’re tangible.” He observes. “What are you?”

Yukhei’s kind have many names. Reaper, Shinigami, Thanatos, Yama. The one he always personally uses is _guide_. He wonders which to give the boy. He knows from the information given to him that the new spirit doesn’t believe in culture the way others in this country do. It would be pointless to say _Jeoseung-saja._ On the other hand, the Western term, _reaper_ , is not exactly applicable either.

The boy extends his hand, smiles wide, and says, “I’m Mark, by the way.”

Yukhei is quite taken aback by the force of that smile. He turns in his seat and takes Mark’s hand, and hesitantly replies, “You can call me Yukhei.”

Mark’s smile widens. “Yukhei,” he repeats, rolling the foreign name around in his mouth.

Yukhei hasn’t heard anyone besides himself say that name in so long. It’s the one he’d used _before_ , in life, but he’d mostly shed it for any number of monikers after becoming a guide. He usually uses whatever fits the culture of the deceased, but Mark is a complexity of western ideologies and eastern tradition and he finds himself relating, just a tiny bit.

He’d introduced himself as Mark. A name given to him by culture, rather than birth. Yukhei’s brain had conveniently supplied him with _Minhyung_ , but if Mark prefers his western name, Yukhei has no qualms about using it.

Mark asks him, “So where exactly are we going? What is this place? Can I sit up front instead?”

“That’s a lot of questions,” Yukhei chooses to say.

Mark gives him an unimpressed look, and before Yukhei can object, he’s squeezing through the gap between the seats, legs first, and Yukhei watches, half in confusion and half in amusement, as Mark manages to slide his body from the back seat to the front, and if the sole of Mark’s shoe scrapes his thigh and leaves a dusty trail, Yukhei doesn’t mind.

“There,” Mark says, jaw set like a particularly petulant child. Yukhei tries very hard to not find it cute but fails miserably. “Now tell me where we’re going.”

Yukhei finally steps off the brake, slowly rolling the car away from its position next to the street. From next to him, Mark glances at the dark building one more time, eyes lingering up at one of the lighted windows.

When Yukhei pulls into the street, everything begins to fade.

He hates the feeling that comes next. The feeling of being pulled through a membrane of ice water, coolness washing over skin for a fraction of a second before they’re back to normal. Yukhei’s done it so many times, but it still makes his hands tighten on the wheel. But Mark, who is unused to it, gives a violent shudder, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Welcome,” he says, “To the In Between.”

They’re engulfed in white, as far as the eye can see, and if Yukhei weren’t programmed by the angels to know where the Gate is, he’d also be intimidated looking around the vast, infinite white mist.

“What _is_ this?” Mark asks, awe apparent in his hushed tone. His eyes are wide, head whipping from side to side to take everything in.

“Limbo?” Yukhei says. It’s the closest word he can think of. “From here, I take you to the Gate.”

Yukhei likes driving fast In Between. There’s nothing here if you’re not looking for it, so he can drive in whichever direction for however long without worrying about where he’s going to end up or if he’s going to run into anything.

Mark glances at him out of the corner of his eye, and asks a bit apprehensively, “What’s the Gate?”

“It’s not what the Gate is,” Yukhei says the lines like they’re rehearsed, because they are. “It’s what is beyond the Gate.”

Mark looks at him for another second, and Yukhei stares back. Finally, Mark snorts, settling back into his seat. “Okay. I didn’t know dying was going to take me to a bad infomercial, but okay.”

“Hey,” Yukhei complains, “I’m trying my best.”

Mark smirks. “And I commend you for that.” He keeps looking around. “There’s not exactly a lot to look at, though, is there?”

“That’s why it’s _Between_ ,” Yukhei says, rolling his eyes. “You’re only here for a short time. Don’t worry about it.”

“What about you? Aren’t you always Between?”

“I go back and forth.” Yukhei relents, “So it’s not like I’m sitting here constantly.”

“So, what’s beyond the Gate?”

Even Yukhei himself isn’t sure what. As a guide, he’s only been on the Between side of the Gate. He shrugs and tells Mark, “I’ve never been. You’re going to have to go inside to find out.”

Mark looks troubled for a fraction of a second, but he settles into his seat again, crosses his arms in front of his chest, turns his head away so Yukhei can’t see the expression on his face anymore.

Yukhei drives on.

-

They make idle small talk as they drive. They’re not particularly far from the Gate, as far as Yukhei can feel.

There’s no such thing as time here, and it’s hard to keep track of distances, but Yukhei usually gets a gut feeling when they’re approaching it. It feels like gentle thrumming, deep in his bones, calling him to it.

Mark is more assertive than the usual soul, his hands flitting about nervously around the dashboard. Yukhei’s curious, but he’s learned by now that most souls don’t appreciate prying. Besides, he’s seen plenty of them become anxious at the uncertainty of the situation, so he lets Mark fiddle with the dial of the radio (under Mark’s touch, it begins blaring some bass-boosted, fast hip hop track that makes Mark’s eyes wide, and Yukhei explains that will play whatever he wants.)

Surprisingly, they have a lot in common. They both like the same bass-heavy, fast paced music, and when Mark says through a fit of laughter from dumb jokes Yukhei’s never had an excuse to tell anyone before, “What do you miss the most about living?” Yukhei has to take a bit to think.

Finally, after turning the question over in his head, he replies, “My dog.”

Mark busts into giggles from that, slaps his arm and says, “Are you _serious_? You’re such a dork, what the fuck.”

“Hey,” Yukhei says, mock-offended, “Snoopy was a great dog, fuck you.”

Mark is still laughing when they break through a pocket of mist, shining golden light hits the car, but it quickly fades, and he says in a hushed voice, “Wow.”

The Gate is as tall as a skyscraper, as wide as a city block, and made entirely out of perfect white marble. Mark tips his head back, but Yukhei knows there’s no use, because the top is obscured by the mist. Among the guides, it’s popular opinion that there is no definite top.

“Welcome to the Gate.” Yukhei says. Mark had been good company, but Yukhei knows what comes next. He’ll go through the Gate, up to whatever exists Beyond, and Yukhei will wait for his next assignment.

For some reason, it leaves a melancholy feeling hanging over him. He should be used to it by now, but Mark’s personality had matched with his so well, he can’t help but feel regretful. Quickly, he swallows the feeling.

When he gets a handle on himself and turns back to Mark, he finds the other boy still staring at the gate, an unreadable, complicated expression in his eyes.

“I can’t.” Mark whispers, so quietly that Yukhei thinks he mishears the first time. Then he repeats, “I can’t go yet.”

Yukhei has only had one or two spirits with unfinished business- ones that refused to go past the Gate, that yearned to go back to the world of the living. Of course, it’s not possible. Yukhei tries gentling his voice as much as possible, because despite the difficulties, he likes the boy. “Mark,” he begins, “You died. You can’t go back there. You have to go beyond.”

But then Mark says something that takes him by surprise. “I don’t want to be alive again.”

Yukhei furrows his eyebrows, confusion taking hold. Mark quickly explains, “I mean, of course I wish I hadn’t died so quickly, but I can’t move on yet. I made a promise before I died. I have to wait for him.”

That word. _Him_. Mark’s expression changes with a single word, softening, eyes moony and staring into the distance.

Instantly, it clicks into place.

“He’ll come join you eventually,” Yukhei reasons. “Everyone has to die.”

But Mark is already shaking his head, turning to Yukhei with panic in his eyes. “He’s an idiot. He’s going to get lost or something without me. I promised him I’d wait. Please, I can’t go yet.” Mark’s voice breaks, eyes wide and pleading, and Yukhei feels something in his chest pang in sympathy at that expression.

But what Mark is asking simply isn’t done. Yukhei likes him, but he doesn’t know what to say. “Everyone has to go through the Gate.”

“You didn’t.” Mark says, palm slamming down on the dashboard in frustration. “What if I become like you?”

“You can’t.” Yukhei’s brain supplies him immediately. He gets information directly from _up there_ , and it tells him that there are no openings for guides at the moment. “Only some people can become guides.”

“Please,” Mark begs, “I made a promise. Isn’t there anything I can do to stay In Between?”

Yukhei wracks his brain for ideas, but he can’t seem to come up with any viable solution. He’s never dealt with a problem like this before.

Before he can phrase his regret, Mark says, “What if I just stay here with you?”

Yukhei hesitates. There’s nothing _stopping_ Mark from staying with him, per se, but it’s unorthodox. It’s simply never been done.

His curiosity makes him speak before he can help himself. “Why do you want to wait for him so badly? Why not wait beyond the Gate?”

Mark bites his lip. “I’ve never been without him before. He was with me until the minute I passed. I don’t want him to arrive here and find a stranger. I want to be the first person who greets him. I _need_ to wait for him.”

“Mark…” Yukhei says, unsure. He can already feel that it’s a bad idea.

“ _Please_. Haven’t you ever been in love?” Mark whispers. He hasn’t, but Mark’s voice is so desperate, Yukhei can’t find it in him to object.

Mark stays.

-

Yukhei feels wary leading Mark into the gathering place for guides near the bottom of the Gate.

Mark had been so surprised to learn that guides and souls need to sleep, even in limbo. “It seems kind of unfair,” he says when Yukhei voices his curiosity, “that you spend so much time sleeping when you could be doing things when you’re alive, and now you have to spend time sleeping for the rest of eternity as well.”

“Well,” Yukhei says hesitantly. He’s not sure how much information he’s allowed to give Mark. Usually, souls find everything out after going beyond the gate. “Since we’re in transition, I think we need to still sleep. Once you’re past the gate, you don’t need to anymore.”

Mark rolls his eyes. “It’s still weird.” He says.

Once they’re inside the Guidehouse, Mark can’t stop looking around with wide eyes. In every window, there is a different scene going on. Yukhei remembers being dumbfounded at the busy streets of New York in one window, a tropical forest in Indonesia in the other.

“Are they…” Mark looks at him, awed.

“Real?” Yukhei finishes, grinning. “In a way. It shows you what’s happening, but there’s no way to get there. You’re as trapped on this side of the glass as they are on the other side.”

At that moment, someone turns the corner down the hall. Yukhei quickly shoves Mark into one of the rooms branching off of the hall, shutting the door behind them.

The room turns out to be a tiny closet, and Yukhei winds up pressed against the door, Mark standing in front of him, eyeing him curiously.

“Is it really that bad that I’m not crossing over yet?” he asks, rolling his eyes. “No one can even know that I’m here?”

Yukhei bites the inside of his cheek hard. “I don’t know.” He admits quietly, “There’s nothing saying it’s not allowed, but there’s also nothing saying that it is allowed. It’s never happened before, as far as I know.”

“Well no one bothered to smite you or whatever, so I’m going to guess it’s fine.” Mark says, pouting at him.

Yukhei shakes his head once. “I don’t want to risk it.”

“You’re boring.”

“Take that back!” Yukhei is _not_ boring.

“You take it back!”

“Take what back?”

“Your face.” Mark says rather maturely.

Yukhei scoffs, “You’re an idiot.”

“As if you’re not, Donghyuck-“ Mark stops short with a tiny choked noise, blinking rapidly. “Oh,” he says quietly, and in the next second, there are tears welling up in his eyes. “Yukhei,” he finishes pathetically.

One second, Yukhei’s teasing him, and the next, he has his arms full of sobbing spirit, Mark’s tears soaking into his sweater. Yukhei awkwardly wraps his arms around the soul’s middle, patting his back gently.

“Hey,” he says, trying his best to comfort the other boy, “It’s going to be fine. He’ll be here before you know it.”

Mark cries in his arms until he’s tired out, and Yukhei holds him the whole time, eventually feeling comfortable enough to just pull him into a hug, awkwardness forgotten.

Finally, when Yukhei’s sweater is ruined and Mark’s eyes are red, his face swollen, he says in a raspy soft voice, “I think I know why souls need sleep now. I’m exhausted.”

And through his concern, Yukhei bursts out laughing, and even though his tears haven’t even dried yet, Mark joins in.

-

Yukhei’s room is thankfully big enough to house both of them, and comfortably. He sits in that cramped car for so long, it’s only fair that he gets a big room to even it out. Mark takes the couch while Yukhei takes the bed, and when they’re in the dark, the curtains drawn to keep out the constant blinding white of outside, Mark whispers, “I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?” Yukhei rolls over, pulls the thick blankets closer to his chest.

“What if Donghyuck moves on? He has his whole life ahead of him. I’d just be waiting for nothing.”

Yukhei wishes he could say that isn’t true, but Mark is right. Apparently, his silence conveys that, because Mark sighs noisily, and the sofa creaks as he shifts on it.

“I’m sorry for unloading all of this onto you. It’s not fair that you’re stuck with me now just because I insisted.”

“It’s fine,” Yukhei immediately says, “I don’t mind. I haven’t had a real friend in a long time.”

Mark stays silent for a time, and Yukhei wonders if he’s overstepped something. He’s a bit rusty at this whole companionship thing.

Then, quietly, Mark murmurs, “I’m sorry. You must have been lonely here all by yourself.”

Yukhei has never thought about it like that. He’s had passengers, as fleeting as they are, and other guides, even if the lineup is constantly changing, the older guides choosing to move on and enter the Gate eventually.

The more he dwells on it, the more he realizes he _has_ missed this. The easy familiarity of talking to someone he actually enjoys talking to, of opening up to someone.

Yukhei stares at the ceiling until well after Mark is asleep, wondering how long it’s been since he’s felt anything except apathy towards anyone.

-

Mark makes surprisingly good company. Yukhei’s used to silence between jobs, waiting for new passengers to stir the strange tugging feeling in his chest that leads him to them. With Mark, though, the silences are filled with witty jokes and stories.

Mark’s favorite topic of conversation, however, is Donghyuck.

“He’s like the sun,” Mark says, eyes gentling, reverence surfacing. Yukhei notices how his face changes when he thinks of Donghyuck. It’s like the tenseness leaves his body, leaving only euphoria. Mark smiles unconsciously when he’s talking about Donghyuck, and Yukhei observes quietly, drinking in the information.

“He’s so funny, you won’t believe me if I told you.” Mark absolutely gushes as they drive through limbo. “It’s like he always has something to keep you on your toes. Talking with him is like having a swordfight.”

Yukhei doesn’t see anything particularly great about being verbally flayed, but the way Mark’s whole face lights up as he reminisces makes his stomach flip flop in the oddest way. He presses his palm to his belly, wonders why its reacting in such a way.

Yukhei has no sense of time in the In Between, but after Mark joins him, he realizes he has no idea how he’d spent so long without the company of another.

The contact he has with spirits is typically brief. They get in the car, then chat a bit or not at all as Yukhei takes them to the Gate, and then they leave, and Yukhei never sees them again.

Mark’s prolonged stay is messing with his head.

Mark is easygoing, kicking his feet up onto the dashboard (Yukhei could never. His body is far too long) and asks him all kinds of questions.

The general ones, Yukhei can answer.

 _How big is the In Between?_ Infinite, but very finite. Doorways out always seem to present themselves whenever Yukhei needs to pick someone up, but never otherwise. He could drive forever, and never find an end.

_How did you become a guide? Were you born that way?_

Of course, this is a bit more complicated. Yukhei only remembers the broadest details about his life. He remembers being called Wong Yukhei, he remembers the lit-up skyline of Hong Kong at night, of the taste of his mother’s cooking on his tongue. He remembers some kind of illness weakening his body, and then, nothing. No one is born a guide.

Yukhei remembers making the choice. He’d decided on it instead of walking past the Gate and had been presented with the car.

Past that, everything becomes unfocused and blurry. With time, it’s faded from his mind.

When Mark hears that, he becomes very quiet. “Will I forget about the little things, too?” he asks.

Yukhei shrugs, suddenly uncomfortable with the sober expression on Mark’s face.

Mark opens the glove box without a warning and begins rooting around. Yukhei looks over as discreetly as he can. Mark fishes a paper out (Yukhei has no idea where it came from) and he asks, “Is there a pen?”

Yukhei isn’t sure, so he shrugs, turning back to the endless fog around them.

A second later, Mark exclaims, “Aha!” and triumphantly holds up a pen. “I swear this wasn’t in here when I was looking for paper. Do you think the In Between just makes up whatever I want?”

Yukhei shrugs again. He’s never tried to experiment with this plane of existence before, but Mark is already sitting up in his seat, eyes twinkling with mischief. “If I were to wish for, say, a Big Mac, would an Underworld McDonald’s show up?”

Okay. Yukhei is sure whatever the limits of the In Between dimension are, a capitalism dependent restaurant chain would be pushing it.

“First of all, this isn’t the Underworld. Secondly, that’s not possible.” He confirms. “Maybe if you wish for food, your stomach would feel full? But it’s not like you have to eat anyways, so it doesn’t matter.”

Mark frowns, slouching down again. He clicks the pen a couple times, and then says, “That sucks.”

“Yeah,” Yukhei sighs.

But then. “Are you _sure_ there isn’t an Underworld McDonald’s?” Mark asks, straightening in his seat.

“Positive.”

“Then what’s that?”

Yukhei looks away from the endless fog in front of him to follow Mark’s gaze and finds…

He squints.

It’s a McDonald’s.

“What the fuck.” He says.

Mark is already practically bouncing in his seat, chanting “Un-der-world-Mc-Don-ald’s, Un-der-world-Mc-Don-ald’s-“ his face lit up with a grin.

“That didn’t exist two minutes ago.” Yukhei says, thoroughly confused. It’s definitely a McDonald’s. The golden archway leading up to the drive-through are telltale, as well as the smiling statue of the clown planted next to the ordering window.

“Can we go?” Mark pleads, his eyes wide and dark and _fuck_ , if Yukhei isn’t completely charmed by his begging. “Please, Yukhei please, can we go to Underworld McDonald’s?”

Yukhei is extremely wary of the sudden appearance of exactly what Mark is looking for, but he pushes it to the back of his mind. They’re dead, after all. What’s the worst that could happen?

Yukhei parks the car right next to the building, glancing around nervously as he exits. As usual, there is no ground in the In Between. Around his feet, there is only thick mist, blocking his view from seeing what’s under it. He takes a step, and it feels like walking and floating at the same time.

Mark yelps as soon as he’s on his feet, crying, “You didn’t tell me we were standing on _clouds_.” He hops excitedly from foot to foot, testing the durability and limitations of the landscape, and Yukhei can’t help but laugh at the childish excitement on his face.

Mark is serious at times, but when he lets loose, Yukhei thinks he’s really cute. Mark is the type to lose himself to laughing, and it makes Yukhei want to smile along, and it only makes the feeling of affection in Yukhei’s stomach grow.

Once Mark has had enough of testing the landscape, they walk inside. The inside of the McDonald’s is barren and empty, the garishly colored booths even more gaudy in the absence of people. Yukhei takes a thorough look around, still half guarded.

“Oh,” a voice chimes then, “Welcome to McDoyoung’s!”

Mark turns to Yukhei, eyebrows furrowed. He mouths, _McDoyoung’s?_

Yukhei shrugs, looking around for the source of the mysterious disembodied voice. Suddenly, as if he’d been there the whole time, Yukhei finds a tall lanky man draped over the counter.

“Oh shit,” Mark mumbles once he’s caught sight of the man. He’s dressed in all black, a collar around his neck, a chain leading from it to somewhere behind the counter. From the crown of his head, two long, lithe horns sprout up, curved wickedly towards the ceiling. Mark shoots him a look, and Yukhei shrugs again.

“I see you looking at my wards, guide.” The man says, “Like you’ve never seen a demon lose a bet before.”

Yukhei has not, in fact, seen many demons. He knows of their existence, but besides one or two encounters near the Gate to hell, he hasn’t ever spoken to one.

At the very least, he knows that the chain (wards, he corrects himself) will keep them from harm. He tells Mark, “It’s safe.”

Mark gives the demon an odd look and walks around the counter, to the seats that are out of sight of it, and slides into a vinyl booth, paper and pen clutched tight in his hand.

“Our first date was at a McDonald’s.” He says. “We were only fourteen and fifteen so I had no money for anything, so we walked to the neighborhood McDonald’s and got milkshakes and fries. I called him gross for dipping his fries into his shake, and he said I didn’t live adventurously enough.”

Mark’s eyes are misty, and Yukhei instinctively looks down at his lap. He feels out of place, like he’s intruding on Mark’s memories.

 Mark says, “I’ll go order. What do you want?”

Yukhei’s taken by surprise. “I don’t know.” He replies immediately, “I think there were McDonald’s when I was alive, but I can’t remember what I liked to eat.”

Mark makes a teasing faux-sympathetic noise, standing up and patting Yukhei’s shoulder. “I’ll just get you what I’m having.” He decides.

Mark disappears around the bend to find the strange chained man again, and Yukhei’s left alone in the booth with nothing but the car keys and Mark’s list.

He can’t help how curious he is; it’s only natural to wonder about his traveling companion, after all. Before he can talk himself out of it, he slides the list closer to him, glancing at the words scrawled across it.

 _“Donghyuck smells like lavender because he says it calms him down,_ ” it says. Another line. “ _Donghyuck secretly loves it when I play with his hair. He says he hates being the little spoon but every time he’s the big spoon we end up switching in the middle of the night. Donghyuck loses things really easily so he makes me hold onto them._ ” And then, under a dozen other tiny things that make Yukhei’s eyes prickle with some unnamed emotion, in thick, bold letters, “ _Don’t forget how much you love him_.”

Mark’s voice comes from behind him. “He sounds sweet when I write it out like that, doesn’t he?”

Yukhei flushes in embarrassment, hands pulling away from the list fast. “Sorry,” he immediately apologizes, “It wasn’t any of my business.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Mark gives him an easy smile, sliding back into the booth across from him. “If you saw us together in real life, I swear we’re nothing like what I’m writing. Half the time, we’re fighting, and the other half, one of us is mad at the other for no reason.”

“But you love him,” Yukhei asks, and he can’t keep the confusion from bleeding into his voice.

“With all my heart.” Mark says serenely. He looks down at the sheet, and his mouth twists into a determined smile. “That’s why I’m going to wait however long it takes.”

The same emotion surges up inside Yukhei, this time stronger. He presses a hand to his chest, unsure of why his body is behaving this way. Mark is admirable, waiting like this, but Yukhei doesn’t understand his own reaction.

Somewhere, a buzzer dings, and Mark looks down at his hands. “I guess that’s us?”

He gets up to retrieve their food, and Yukhei’s left alone with the list and his tempestuous, strange feelings.

-

Sometimes, Yukhei wonders what Donghyuck looks like.

In his head, Donghyuck’s smile is so bright that it’s blinding, his skin golden like sunlight. He’s lovely, in Yukhei’s head, because love is all Yukhei has to go off of. Mark is incapable of describing him any other way.

He thinks of what Donghyuck and Mark would look like next to each other, and he has to stop thinking before the longing gets the best of him.

He hasn’t figured out if it’s Donghyuck and Mark themselves, or the way their relationship is portrayed to him, through what Mark says when he’s reminiscing, that makes him so desperate to have something similar, to be a part of this push and pull, sun and moon relationship.

-

Sometimes Mark cries when he thinks Yukhei is asleep.

When there aren’t any souls to pick up, they drive around the infinite space for no reason, and travel further and further from the Gate. Yukhei knows that entrances into the world of the living will open up for him whenever he needs them to, so he doesn’t mind straying away from the Gate.

When he’s tired, Mark takes up driving, because he says he hasn’t driven in so long, he’s afraid he’s going to forget how to do it.

However far they go, though, they always return to the Guidehouse when sleeping in the cramped car makes their long limbs ache.

It’s at moments like this that Yukhei aches to wrap his arms around Mark as he sobs quietly to himself, trying to stifle the noises into his palms. Yukhei’s heart hurts along with Mark’s, but he can never bring himself to tell the other boy how much he wishes he could do anything to help, to ease the ache just a little bit.

It’s times like this, when Mark’s shoulders shake from the force of his sobs, that Yukhei feels the most helpless and stuck in one never-ending limbo, doomed to watch in horror as the seed of feelings in his chest sprouts into a complicated, twisted plant.

-

Yukhei falls for Donghyuck through stories.

Mark tells him things offhand, and Yukhei feels like a drowning man, finding the solace of air for only those minutes, when Mark will let it slip that Donghyuck laughs like bells chiming, or that he loves cooking but never makes dinner when Mark asks, just to spite him.

Yukhei wants so desperately to _know,_ to be let onto this wonderful secret that is Donghyuck. The bits and pieces Mark tells him just aren’t enough.

And Mark. Mark is a whole different story.

When Mark laughs, it’s with his whole face, his nose scrunching, his eyes curving, mouth opening wide. Yukhei is so charmed the first time he sees it, that Mark ends up faltering, stopping mid laugh to ask, “What’s wrong? Are you mad I’m laughing at you?”

“No,” Yukhei says, giggling, “But dude, I didn’t know you were so ugly when you laughed.”

“Hey!” Mark says, pretending to be affronted, “You know, I don’t think anyone has ever called me ugly before. Take it back. I know you think I’m really cute.”

For a second, Yukhei considers telling Mark the truth- that he thinks Mark is the cutest soul he’s ever seen, that Mark is so utterly bright and kind and loyal and Yukhei is so helpless to his charms that he can barely stop himself from telling him-

He says, “Okay, ugly.”

Mark laughs again, even louder, and Yukhei takes a deep breath, forces himself to laugh along.

Something inside him is falling apart.

-

Mark gets far too invested in every soul they pick up.

The first dozen had been elderly, and he’d just bowed his head respectfully to them, and they’d kept quiet the whole way to the gate. There’s not much to say to them, after all.

It’s weirder when they pick up a guy who looks a couple years older than both of them. He slides into the car gracefully, head held high, and asks immediately, “Are you angels?”

Yukhei can’t help but laugh at that, but Mark turns from the passenger seat and turns big surprised eyes on the new passenger. “You’re- oh my god, you-“ he stutters out.

“Lee Taeyong?” the man teases. Yukhei turns his head and glances at him. They’re in front of a hospital- a common place to pick up spirits for obvious reasons, but when he takes a look around, he realizes how many people are gathered outside the building.

Yukhei looks back at the man, taking note of how polished he is, his eyes big, nose straight, cheekbones high. He must have become famous after Yukhei’s death, because he doesn’t remember the face at all.

“You’re my favorite idol,” Mark whispers, his voice hushed in awe. “Or… or you were,” he adds hastily. “But what happened? You were fine when I was alive.”

Taeyong bites his lip, staring outside at the fans lined up down the parking lot all the way to the entrance of the building. The crowd’s quite big. “I injured myself,” he admits, “It was dumb of me, but I was in the practice room by myself late last night, and I wound up hitting my head when I fell. I guess I never woke up.”

A man walks outside, and Yukhei watches him speak to the crowd. Immediately, the girl at the forefront crumples down to the ground.

“Let’s go,” Mark says softly, reaching out to curl his hand around Yukhei’s wrist. He squeezes once, and Yukhei tears his eyes away from the grieving people.

He starts the car, and begins pulling away from the building. The world behind them fades to white, and he says absently, “Hold on tight.”

Mark grips his wrist even harder, his fingers cold against Yukhei’s warm skin. They tighten briefly when they pass through the membrane into the In Between, and then fall slack again.

Taeyong says, “Is this heaven?”

Yukhei begins to spout his rehearsed lines. “This is In Between. I’m your guide to the Ga-“

“Dude,” Mark says, nudging him roughly, “That’s Lee Taeyong. If he thinks this is heaven, then this is heaven and we’re angels.”

Yukhei rolls his eyes, keeps following the scripted lines. “Once you’re at the Gate, you can move on.”

Mark keeps turning around to ask Taeyong questions as Yukhei drives through the mist, about his personal life (“I _knew_ you and that Thai dancer were more than friends!”) and his music.

Yukhei can’t say he’s very sad to see Taeyong go when they finally arrive at the Gate.

After dropping Taeyong off, they drive around for a while just to kill time before their next passenger. Taeyong had unsettled Yukhei somehow. Mark had been so excited by him, hanging onto every single one of his words like they’re of the utmost importance, drinking in every syllable. Yukhei realizes with a start that it’s jealously.

“Hey,” Mark says, tearing him from his thoughts. “You okay?”

“Can you play that guy’s songs?” Yukhei asks, looking very distinctly not at Mark.

“Taeyong?” Mark immediately grabs the dial and spins it, searching for a song. “He was Donghyuck’s favorite idol too, you know. Our friends must be devastated right now.”

Yukhei hums in response, waiting for the beat to start.

The song starts out like any other, typical and polished like Taeyong himself, but then the rapping starts.

Yukhei makes a face and squints at Mark. “You _liked_ this?”

“Hey!” Mark complains, “He’s a much better dancer than a rapper, okay? And he’s hot, so shut up.”

Yukhei ducks towards him, turns the music down all the way, and says, “Dude, I could rap better than this. He just sounds like he needs a cough drop.”

Mark looks at him with those fond, bright eyes, and says, “You’re the worst, you know.”

They’re so close, Yukhei can see differentiate the black of Mark’s pupil from his dark irises, He can count every eyelash hair. Mark’s lips part a tiny bit, as if in anticipation. His eyes are so wide, completely unfathomable.

Yukhei reaches out, curls a hand around the nape of his neck, the skin searing under his palm, and he leans in. He’s been holding back for so long, and Mark’s breath hitches. Yukhei can’t keep it in any longer.

He moves forward, presses their lips together.

For one second, it’s everything Yukhei has ever wanted, Mark’s thin lips parting under his thicker ones, and Yukhei melts into it. But it ends quick.

Mark jerks away like he’d been burned. He can’t meet Yukhei’s eyes, looking down at his lap instead. “I-I can’t,” he whispers, “You _know_ I can’t.”

“Mark, you’re _dead_.” Yukhei says, a wave of frustration rising up inside him. Mark flinches at the word, but Yukhei barrels on, too annoyed to filter himself. “You don’t know when he’s going to be here. He’s probably moved on. Why can’t you?”

A whisper. “I love him.”

Mark’s lip trembles, his face still tilted away from Yukhei, and Yukhei knows that he’s about to start crying any second. Regret crashes down on him, but Mark can’t honestly keep waiting for Donghyuck forever, and Yukhei _wants_ so bad that it hurts, an unquenchable desire that burns him throughout.

Mark turns his body away towards the window, and Yukhei knows he’s done with the conversation. Mark loves Donghyuck more than anything. Yukhei _knows_ that, he really does, but knowing that doesn’t do anything to hinder the complicated feelings swirling in his chest, envy and desire and an all-encompassing sadness.

Yukhei’s hands tremble on the wheel. He blinks rapidly as tears swell up in his eyes, clinging to his eyelashes.

He keeps driving.


	2. [MARK]

Mark has loved Donghyuck for his entire life.

From the moment Donghyuck came into his life, like a whirlwind, taking all of Mark’s worries and problems and sweeping them away, Mark’s known that he wants to spend the rest of his life with him.

The first time Mark meets Donghyuck, he’s twelve, fresh from Canada, stuttering through his introduction on the first day of middle school. One of the kids huffs out a giggle at him, until with a sharp smack to his arm, another boy shuts him up.

(Mark only learns the name of the boy who had tried to save his dignity later- Lee Donghyuck, younger than him by a year, and easily the most talkative person he has ever met.)

Mark barely has a chance to introduce himself before Donghyuck is saying his name over and over, amused by the way the foreign sounds roll off his tongue. They’re best friends by lunchtime, and the rest is history.

They fight like cats and dogs, and sometimes Mark gets so annoyed that he can’t bear to be in the same room at him, but at the end of the day, Donghyuck is there with him, an unshakeable constant presence.

Even later, when their friendship had grown into something more, they’d remained snarky and teasing more often than not. Sometimes Jeno would stare after them, wondering out loud, “Do you love each other or hate each other?”

Of course, Jeno had never witnessed the strange, slow, tender moments that passed between them either.

The way Donghyuck looks when his lips are swollen from making out, the way he’ll roll over in the middle of the night and unconsciously reach out for Mark, the way he sounds when he whispers, “You know I love you no matter how much we fight, right?”

Mark has no doubts that he will always love Donghyuck.

But he’d never thought of what would come after.

Yukhei is strange. He smiles with his whole face and is loud, his voice on the complete opposite end of the spectrum from Donghyuck’s tenor, and sometimes, Mark catches him looking out the window, eyes far away.

And yet somehow, he and Donghyuck are so similar. They both radiate the same vibrant, sunny energy, and Mark feels himself get lost all over again, this time in a completely different type of bright smile.

It makes Mark anxious, whenever he finds himself leaning into Yukhei’s side for just a little too long when the taller boy swings an arm over his shoulder, when he catches himself staring at the plump curve of Yukhei’s lip for too long.

Mark really, truly loves Donghyuck with all his heart, and the guilt is eating him alive, but he hasn’t seen Donghyuck in so long, and he’s _dead_ , and everything is confusing and horrible.

Only, then Yukhei will smile again, and everything is less confusing and horrible.

And then the cycle of guilt begins all over again.

Kissing Donghyuck had always been like coming home after a long day, and he’s been so lost without it in the time he’s been In Between. When Yukhei kisses him, it’s different.

Yukhei’s more careful, whereas Donghyuck had been so brash, eager and enthusiastic, kissing Mark messily. Yukhei is more cautious in his actions, from the hesitant press of his lips to the way the hand he’d pressed against the nape of Mark’s neck curls its fingers nervously and uncurls again.

Mark can’t stop the comparisons, and try as he might, he can’t swallow down the urge to kiss Yukhei again.

-

They pick up a boy.

Up until now, Mark has been younger than anyone else they’ve picked up to take to the Gate. The vast majority of the people they pick up are elderly, with a smaller but still significant number of adults thrown in.

 But then they pull out of the In Between, Mark gritting his teeth as the feeling of being submerged in ice water hits him quickly, then fades, and they find themselves in front of a hospital.

Mark thinks nothing of it, until the backseat of the car opens. He turns like he always does to greet the person entering, but the words die in his throat.

In the back, a thin boy with a round childish face slips into the seat, giving them a soft smile. The boy’s hair is a mop of dyed blonde, his face sunken, cheekbones sticking out where there should be baby fat. Mark has a horrible feeling in his stomach.

“I thought it was going to hurt.” The boy says, glancing back towards the big looming hospital building. “The nurses told me it wouldn’t, but I always figured it would.”

Mark swallows hard. He can’t find the words to say. With adults, it’s easier somehow. They’d at least had a chance to live out their lives. The boy in the backseat can’t be any older than sixteen, and Mark can’t bear to think about him being wrenched away from life so quickly, so unfairly.

“Zhong Chenle,” Yukhei says calmly. Mark looks at him, eyes wide. He appears calm by all accounts, but Mark knows him too well by now. He can see the tightness in Yukhei’s jaw, the way the veins in his arm jut out from how hard they’re flexed. “Age sixteen. Died March 27th of lung cancer. Your parents were both smokers.”

Chenle draws his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “I don’t think it was solely their fault.” He comments quietly, “Beijing is full of air pollution.”

Mark knows if he keeps staring, he’s going to do something embarrassing, like burst into ugly tears, so he spins around in his seat again, exhaling a big shuddery breath, squeezing his hands into fists in his lap. Automatically, Yukhei reaches between them and wraps a hand around his wrist, tightening his fingers briefly against Mark’s skin in a reassuring way before letting go again.

“You know,” Chenle says, and this time his voice is more like someone his age should sound, mischief coloring it bright, “I didn’t think death would bring me weird gay boyfriends in a car this nice. They didn’t disclose _this_ in the bible.”

Mark chokes over his own spit and winds up coughing all over himself while Yukhei turns a peculiar shade of red and says quickly, “We’re not boyfriends.”

Chenle’s grin doesn’t get any less wide. He looks between the two of them, eyes twinkling with amusement, and he says, “Okay. If that’s what you say.”

Mark goes quiet after that, not quite sure how to respond. In the backseat, Chenle is humming to himself softly, tapping out a mindless rhythm against the window.

They’re not far from the Gate, and Chenle spends the whole time asking questions about the afterlife. After so long here, Mark answers them with ease, because it’s evident from one look to Yukhei’s tensed body that he’s not really in the mood to speak.

It’s only when Chenle leaps from the car, taking in the great looming presence of the Gate above him, that Mark turns to Yukhei and says softly, “What’s wrong?”

In front of them, Chenle has begun his climb to the Gate, ascending swiftly up the great white stairs that lead to it. Mark wishes him well.

Yukhei looks smaller than he is somehow, his limbs curled tightly into himself. “That’s how I died, I think.” He says quietly.  

Mark looks at him in shock. “You mean…”

“Cancer.” Yukhei finishes, tapping his fingers nervously against the wheel. “I remember them saying it had spread too far for them to fix. Nothing was going to work, so we couldn’t do anything but wait for it to kill me.”

“Oh,” Mark whispers, and it feels like his heart is breaking in his chest. Something inside him longs for Donghyuck, will _always_ long for Donghyuck, but something else wants to wrap his arms around Yukhei’s broad frame and hold him tight. Yukhei’s got to be twice his size, but his eyes are filled with childish naivety, the emotions playing across his face so easily readable, and it makes Mark want to protect him from any harm.

He settles for pulling Yukhei into a loose hug, and Yukhei lets out a deep exhale, clinging to him tightly. There’s so much vulnerability in his eyes when he moves back to look at Mark, and Mark can’t bear to pull away.

-

“Let’s go far away from here.” Mark says when Yukhei’s calmer, his eyes still swollen from crying, but the pace of his breath slowed.

“There’s nothing here.” Yukhei reminds him. His voice is still a little wobbly. “We could go on forever and there would still be nothing.”

Mark presses his lips together hard. “There’s you and me,” he counters quietly. “It’s too stuffy in the Guidehouse, especially when no one’s allowed to see me. Let’s just drive as far as we can for as long as we can. Don’t you ever want to get away?”

Yukhei throws him a complicated look. “There’s never been anything to get away from, before.”

It’s because of _him_ , Mark realizes with a start. Not just the fact that he’s keeping Yukhei from doing his job properly, but also that Yukhei’s in this miserable position, infatuated with him when he can’t reciprocate. Mark wishes he could do something to alleviate the pain just a little, but he doesn’t want to push and make it worse, so he sits back in his seat, waits until Yukhei makes eye contact first, and says, “Let’s get out of here.”

Yukhei swallows hard, ducking his head and facing forward. “Okay,” he agrees after a second of thought. “Let’s go.”

-

They drive until the Gate grows miniscule in the rearview, then disappears all together in the misty terrain. Yukhei’s hands stay tensed on the wheel for a good hour, until Mark pulls his feet up onto the seat under him and pokes his bicep gently. “Relax,” he says, and Yukhei takes a deep breath, his fingers shifting on the wheel.

Apparently, for the guide, relaxed means revving the engine up hard, slamming his foot on the accelerator, and making the car burst forth into the great empty space before them.

Mark’s heart thumps unevenly in his chest when it restarts, and his hands come to grip the edge of his seat instinctively, even if he knows logically that there is no danger. “We’re going awfully fast,” he says, unable to help the nerves scratching at the pit of his stomach.

Yukhei turns to glance at him, the corner of his full lips pulling into a heart stopping smile, and Mark quickly ducks his head, willing his cheeks to stop being so warm.

 _Donghyuck_ , he tells himself harshly, biting the inside of his cheek until it hurts, his mouth filled with the tangy metallic taste of blood, _you love Donghyuck, so don’t fuck anything up for yourself_.

-

They take turns curling up in the back seat to sleep, and Yukhei’s long body looks so cramped in the tiny space that Mark feels bad for him.

They have to stop periodically to stretch their bodies out, and when Yukhei stretches his arms above his head and his dark shirt rides up to reveal a tan strip of stomach, Mark nearly chokes over an exhale and winds up coughing until his chest hurts.

The further they travel from the overwhelming, looming presence of the Gate, the more unburdened Mark feels. There’s no pull to move on here, where there’s nothing but Yukhei and their endless white surroundings. It feels surreal, timeless. Like he could wait here forever.

Mark welcomes the calm, after the turmoil in his mind over Yukhei and Donghyuck.

Thankfully, they either don’t have any assignments to take on, or Yukhei just does not bother to fulfil the ones he does get, because neither of them mention the job they’re supposed to be doing, and they never take a door to the world of the living. Mark’s glad. He hates the way souls pass through, the scattered details of their lives left between the seats and lingering in Mark’s mind. He doesn’t know what to do with so much information.

On the other hand, the further they get from the Gate, the more Yukhei becomes jumpy and tense, on edge like there’s something looming over his shoulder all the time.

Mark catches him zoning out, staring out the window with faraway eyes when he’s not driving. As Yukhei becomes more closed off and aloof, Mark finds himself wishing he could something to bring the taller boy out of his strange mindset. It must have something to do with their kiss- there’s no other explanation, but Mark knows if he brings it up, it’s just going to lead to everything becoming more complicated, so he keeps it to himself.

Yukhei’s so quiet sometimes, in a trance-like state, and Mark has to shake his shoulder gently to pull him out of it. “You okay?” he asks more and more often, and sometimes Yukhei nods, and sometimes he just shrugs, unsure.

Then one day, Yukhei says from the passenger seat, in an uncharacteristically tiny voice, “We have an assignment.”

Mark blinks, stepping on the break. “Okay,” he says a bit apprehensively, “Do you want to take over?”

They switch places quickly, and Mark tries to get a grasp on Yukhei’s mood. The tight clench of his jaw, the furrow of his eyebrow- Mark can’t discern what has him so upset until Yukhei murmurs, “It’s him.”

“Who?” Mark presses, but half of him is unsure of if he wants the answer.

Yukhei takes a deep breath, and Mark watches the rise and fall of his broad shoulders, still not understanding. Yukhei says. “Donghyuck.”


	3. [DONGHYUCK]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lets play a game called "guess the sentence in this chapter that made manaal have an aneurism when she wrote it"

Donghyuck isn’t upset when he’s pushed into the street, right into the path of an oncoming bus.

In fact, in the brief moment where he’s jostled by the crowd behind him and he finds himself off the sidewalk, watching the bus barrel towards him, all he feels is a sharp, definite sense of _relief_.

It’s a gut feeling he’s had for a while now. He’d known he wasn’t going to survive very long without Mark. And not in the problematic, codependent way. He and Mark have never been like that. It’s simply something inside him knowing that they’d never be apart for too long.

From the second Mark’s fingers had grown slack in his hands, from the minute his eyes had gone blank, Donghyuck had just known. Call it premonition, call it insanity.

Lying in the street, Donghyuck feels like laughing and crying at the same time. There are people all around him, panicked shouting from the crowd that had jostled him into the street by accident, but Donghyuck lets his eyes close, overcome by a sudden sense of peace.

He’d never make Mark wait so long.

He feels like he’s waking up in the morning when he sits up. Only, when he stands, he leaves his body behind, broken and bleeding in the street. He looks upward, to the grey city sky, and says, “I’m ready, hyung.”

Quietly, a car pulls up next to him, and Donghyuck feels a tugging sensation in his chest, pulling him to it. He reaches for the handle, already knowing somehow what lies inside.

Mark.

-

The doors have barely opened when Mark’s leaping out of the car, arms coming to wrap around Donghyuck’s waist, and it’s like they’d been there all along, like they belong there.

Before Donghyuck sees him, they’re embracing tightly, Donghyuck’s face in Mark’s neck, and the first thing he realizes is that Mark smells the same, the arms around him are the same, his voice, when Mark whispers breathlessly, “ _Donghyuck_ ,” is the same. It’s akin to the feeling of coming home after a long day, and Donghyuck finds himself exactly where he belongs.

“Mark,” he says, equally as short of breath, his voice breaking over the name, “Mark hyung, Mark hyung.”

Once he’s started, it’s like he can’t stop, dissolving into sobs as he cries Mark’s name over and over. It’s not until Mark’s ribcage dips shakily that Donghyuck realizes he’s crying too, silently shedding tears into Donghyuck’s hair.

When they finally pull apart, it’s with slow, careful arms, and Donghyuck blinks tears out of his eyes, takes in Mark’s face for the first time in months.

Mark looks exactly like he had the day he’d died, and Donghyuck takes a second to just _look_ , to drink in what he’s been craving for more than half a year. Mark’s got the same boyish face, both younger and older than he actually is at once, his cheekbones just as cutting, eyes just as big, and Donghyuck can’t believe after months without him, Mark is right here, in his arms.

He ducks down, and Donghyuck’s breath catches in his throat. Mark whispers, “I waited for you.”

Then, scrambling back, Mark glances at the car. “I waited with the reaper. He calls himself a guide, but it’s basically like a reaper. I couldn’t cross over without you. I didn’t want to leave you behind, so I’ve been going to pick up other people with him. You won’t believe it, I saw Lee Taeyong when he died, and-“

“You’re rambling, hyung,” Donghyuck teases through his tears. It’s Mark, _his_ Mark, who talks too much when he’s excited, and looks so ugly to everyone but him when he laughs, whose eyes are too lidded and too wide at once, and Donghyuck is so in love.

 Mark grins at him. “There’s a lot to talk about,” he says by way of explanation. Grabbing onto Donghyuck’s hand, he pulls him towards the car.

 The inside of the car is as sleek and dark as the outside, and Donghyuck slides in next to Mark, the leather seats cool under his hands. In the front, someone is in the driver’s seat. The reaper.

He turns in his seat, and Donghyuck is taken aback. When he thinks about death, he’s always imagined skeletal, dusty figures draped in black cloth. The boy sitting in the driver’s seat has big, bright eyes set on a handsome face, and when he smiles, Donghyuck something in his gut tighten, an unnamed emotion somewhere between jealousy and desire.

“Yukhei,” Mark says.

“Bless you,” Donghyuck replies, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

The reaper throws his head back and laughs, the noise loud and brash, and Donghyuck bites his lip, embarrassed.

“No,” Mark says, squeezing his hand, “That’s Yukhei. He’s been my guide. My reaper.”

 _My_ reaper, Donghyuck notes. He doesn’t like the way the words settle at the bottom of his stomach.

He pushes back the inkling of jealousy stirring at the back of his throat and smiles weakly at Yukhei.

The car moves with the same fluidity as its exterior promises, accelerating with a smooth purr, and Donghyuck shudders as a strange coldness washes over him.

“It’s the barrier,” Yukhei explains, big eyes apologetic, “Sorry.”

“Barrier to what?” Donghyuck begins to ask, but the words get stuck in his throat midsentence. The crowd outside the window is gone, as well as the street altogether. Instead, there’s an endless expanse of blank whiteness surrounding them, as far as Donghyuck can see.

“This feels like a bad purgatory movie.” Donghyuck jokes quietly. Mark snorts and tightens the grip he has on Donghyuck’s hand briefly.

Then, he turns and kisses Mark.

It’s been so long. There’s been nights he’s stayed up crying, fingertips pressed to his own lips, Mark’s pillow under his head, the scent of him fading quickly. Donghyuck’s had a hollow ache in his chest since Mark left him, and as Mark’s fingers curl over his cheek, holding him closer, he feels it fill, finally, with light and love.

Donghyuck has always been able to read Mark like a book.

Since they were kids, Mark’s emotions have spread across his face in the most obvious way. Donghyuck is a master of understanding every twitch of the lips, every shift in his gaze.

The minute he pulls away from kissing Mark, he knows something is wrong.

The smile on his face is too forced, the set of his broad shoulders tense.

Donghyuck’s smile falters, wariness taking its place. “What?” he asks slowly, foreboding already settling into his bones. “What is it?”

Mark ducks his head, because he’s never been a good liar, and the tips of his ears burn red when he says quickly, “Nothing.”

His eyes flit to Yukhei, and Donghyuck’s breath catches in his throat.

“No,” he whispers, realization hitting him like a raw ache in the chest, “No, Mark, no, tell me you didn’t.”

Yukhei hangs his head in shame, and Donghyuck knows that he _did_.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he spits, “Was I that replaceable to you? Did I mean anything to you? You, you _promised_ me that you’d wait.” Donghyuck recoils from Mark’s hands, throwing his palms up between them when Mark reaches out, trying to touch him. Donghyuck thinks about those familiar hands touching someone else, and it makes his face hot with anger.

“Please, Hyuck,” Mark says, eyes dark and pleading. Donghyuck has been on the receiving end of that expression often, whenever they’d had a fight and Mark would apologize first. They’ve never fought about something like this.

“Fuck you,” Donghyuck whispers, trying the door to the car. It opens under his touch, and he steps out into the vast whiteness without knowing what’s in store. He’s dead anyways. Even if he goes falling through the clouds, what’s the worst that could happen?

Thankfully, when he storms out of the car, the misty ground holds his weight in an odd bouncy way, and Donghyuck takes off walking, leaving the car behind him.

“Donghyuck!” Mark yells after him, but every time he speaks, Donghyuck feels his anger spike up inside him, sharp and lethal.

Mark has done plenty of stupid things before. But this, this tops the cake.

And then, a deep voice, softened by uncertainty.

“Please stop, Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck stops short, one foot on the clouds, one raised to take another step.

When he turns around, Yukhei is in front of him, and despite his long, lean body, he looks small somehow, eyes welled up with tears, arms wrapped around his middle. He looks almost pitiful, Donghyuck realizes.

Donghyuck takes a long, slow breath, and says, “What?”

“It was my fault.” Yukhei confesses, blinking profusely. It doesn’t work, his tears spilling over anyways. “I kissed him, and he pushed me off. He said it’s because he loves you. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have even said anything. It’s just… the way he talked about you. The way he _is_. I can’t stop thinking about either of you and it’s making me crazy. I don’t know what to do.”

By the end of his confession, he’s outright crying, and Donghyuck has never seen anyone who seems so self-assured break down like this before. He feels taken aback, and oddly… like a shitty human being.

He looks past Yukhei’s quaking shoulders to Mark, who stands a couple feet behind them, his face a complicated mess of emotion. Donghyuck recognizes the regret, the longing, and finally, the sense of being torn.

Mark’s been alone with no company except Yukhei for months. Perhaps time passes differently here, but Donghyuck had been alive for months without him. He’d had their friends, Jaemin and Jeno and Jisung, his parents, and Mark’s parents to help him with the loss, with the feeling of being torn from love too soon.

Mark’s had no one but Yukhei.

And for that, Donghyuck is eternally grateful to him, and eternally envious.

Yukhei raises his head and says, “Once you two go beyond the Gate, you’ll never have to see me again. You can be happy together.”

Donghyuck really feels like the shittiest person ever.

Mark is beautiful and kind and puts up with all kinds of shit, and Donghyuck knows firsthand how easy it is to fall in love with him.

But Mark likes Yukhei too. That much is obvious from the way his fists are clenched at his sides, his eyes flitting between the two of them.

And Donghyuck… Donghyuck doesn’t know what he likes anymore.

Half of him wants to take Mark and go to the Gate, to leave Yukhei behind and try and forget this odd turn of events. The other half knows that he’ll never be able to forgive himself if he does that.

“You love him.” Donghyuck states. There’s no room for question anymore.

Yukhei’s cheeks are drenched with tears when he looks at him. He nods, lower lip quivering. “I couldn’t help it.” He says, and Donghyuck can believe it.

He focuses on Mark. “You love me.” Mark doesn’t hesitate at all, saying firmly, “I do.”

“And you love him, too.”

Mark’s eyebrows draw together, and he bites his lip. “Yes.”

“Okay.”

Donghyuck begins walking back to the car.

“Okay?” Mark asks as he passes. “What do you mean?”

Donghyuck knows Yukhei is probably giving him an equally confused look, but he returns to the car and slides into the front seat. “I said it’s okay. Get back in the car, I heard there’s a long way to the Gate.”

Yukhei looks at him dumbly. His eyes are still glossy with tears, cheeks wet, and unexpectedly, Donghyuck feels sympathy pang in his chest.

They both walk back to the car as if in a trance, Yukhei dragging his feet, Mark glancing worriedly at him.

Once the car’s moving again, Donghyuck shifts in his seat to face Yukhei. There are tears drying on his cheeks.

Instinctively, Donghyuck reaches a hand out and uses the sleeve of his hoodie to pat his face dry. Yukhei startles when Donghyuck’s hand touches his cheek, and it takes Donghyuck by surprise, how cute he thinks the reaction is.

“How do you feel about me?” he wonders out loud. This is the detail that’s been bothering him since Yukhei’s confession. _I can’t stop thinking about either of you._

Mark opens his mouth, says, “Hy-“ but Donghyuck cuts him off with a noise of warning and says, “I asked _Yukhei_.”

Yukhei licks his lips, looking at Donghyuck quickly before staring back at the windshield. “Infatuation.” He says the word so quietly, Donghyuck nearly misses it over the sound of the car. “I know so many little things about you, I don’t know what to do with all of them. There’s no way I _couldn’t_ be infatuated.”

Donghyuck truly is the worst excuse for a person right now.

He twists his fingers into the bottom of his hoodie, suddenly too shy to look Yukhei head on. “I don’t- I didn’t know you’d feel that way.”

“I couldn’t help it.” Yukhei whispers, and in his peripherals, Donghyuck sees his fingers dance nervously along the steering wheel. “With either of you. I haven’t spent time with anyone in so long. I don’t know how it happened, but it did.”

Mark hums softly from the backseat. “Hyuck,” he says, and this time Donghyuck lets him finish. “I can’t be without you. But… I don’t want to leave him here either. He’s been alone here for so long. I think I’d go crazy. Wouldn’t you?”

Donghyuck already hates the white space. There’s nothing to look at, nothing to do. At least with Mark, he’d had Yukhei for company. Now he thinks back to the countless years Yukhei must have been here, by himself, working to bring souls across.

It’s a lonely existence.

Donghyuck says softly, “We can figure it out. We always do.”

Mark reaches between the seats, takes Donghyuck’s hand, and intertwines their fingers tightly. Donghyuck doesn’t let go.

-

Donghyuck tries his best not to be hostile towards Yukhei.

Mark’s curled up asleep in the backseat, his lips slightly parted, dark hair falling over his forehead. Donghyuck knows he likes to sleep outstretched, limbs snaking over the whole bed. It must be killing him (haha, how ironic) to sleep folded up in a fetal position like this. He figures it’s a good a time as any.

He turns to Yukhei then, and says quietly, “Stop the car.”

Yukhei glances at him out of the corner of his eye. Donghyuck stares at him until he eases off the gas pedal, hits the break, and the car slows to a stop. After making sure Mark is still sound asleep, Donghyuck opens his door and slips out of the seat.

He stretches languidly, waiting until Yukhei gets out of the car and walks over to stand in front of him. He sways back and forth on his feet, and Donghyuck is reminded of an overgrown child.

He really is beautiful. Yukhei is all puffy kissable lips and big eyes, broad shoulders and height, his intimidating countenance softened by the childlike wonder on his face when Donghyuck reaches forward and takes his hands. They’re much bigger than his, and Donghyuck bites his lip, running his fingers along Yukhei’s palm, tracing the lines there.

“Look at me,” Donghyuck whispers, and Yukhei looks down to meet his dark eyes.

There’s an expression of such intensity in Yukhei’s eyes, Donghyuck feels heat creep up to his cheeks instinctively. He swallows the feeling quickly, still unable to confront it.

“Tell me why you like Mark.” He says instead.

Donghyuck watches Yukhei’s throat bob as he swallows hard, and the fingers in his hand twist into a loose fist around his. Donghyuck’s hands feel tiny between Yukhei’s own, but the guide is so careful, curling his long fingers around Donghyuck’s knuckles. “Well,” he mumbles, glancing up from their hands to look at Donghyuck again, “He’s strange. Sometimes he’s so serious, like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it makes me want to take some of the burden away. And other times… sometimes he’s like a kid, when he starts laughing and becomes carefree. He’s cute when he doesn’t try to be.”

Yukhei’s voice becomes increasingly quiet as he speaks, and with every word, Donghyuck feels as if he understands a little more. Mark is more or less the same, in his eyes. Even in life, Mark had worked himself so hard, it had made Donghyuck worry to no end.

 Finally, Yukhei rubs his thumb along the edges of Donghyuck’s knuckles, and he says softly, “I understand if you hate me.”

The thing is, Donghyuck can’t hate him at all. Yukhei’s sweet and genuine, and Donghyuck wants to reassure him, to let him know that everything will work out. If not for the reluctant thorn of hurt still tugging at his chest, he’d pull the other boy close and give him a hug.

Instead, he settles for squeezing Yukhei’s fingers gently and saying, “I don’t hate you. I just need time to think and time to understand. You know how I feel, right?”

After a second, the taller boy nods.

Donghyuck lets out a deep exhale, letting his shoulders slouch. “Thank you,” he sighs.

-

Donghyuck really, _really_ wants to like Yukhei.

Thankfully, the taller boy makes it easy, all smiles whenever Donghyuck so much as glances his way, eager to do anything Donghyuck asks. Donghyuck’s never had a dog before, but he imagines it would be quite the same.

Yukhei can be unbearably sweet sometimes, like when he flushes all the way up to his ears and tells Donghyuck, “Mark was right about you smiling like the sun.” when Donghyuck grins at him, or when they’re sitting in the back together, Mark driving, Yukhei falls asleep on his shoulder, and Donghyuck can’t bring himself to wake the taller boy up, no matter how numb his shoulder is.

Donghyuck slowly finds himself understanding how Mark had fallen for someone like him. Yukhei’s expressive face leaves no room for hiding his emotions, and Donghyuck picks up on what he’s feeling easily. When he’s upset, watching Donghyuck and Mark curled up together in the back, or when he’s happy, as Donghyuck untangles his fingers from Mark’s, reaches to the front of the car and squeezes his elbow lightly.

Yukhei really is like a kid, his happiness lighting up his whole face, eyes bright, smile curving on his mouth like the sun breaking through clouds.

He’s also overly cautious sometimes, hesitant to even reach out and touch Donghyuck’s hand when it’s extended towards him.

But if Yukhei is cautious, Donghyuck is the exact opposite with both of them. He likes slapping Mark’s arm when he’s not paying attention, squeezing Yukhei’s fingers when the guide’s eyes become distant.

No, Donghyuck doesn’t have the word caution in his dictionary, and it makes him do a lot of outlandish things. Like currently.

Mark and Donghyuck are a tangled mess of limbs in the back seat, too preoccupied with how their mouths feel against each other, with how their warm bodies feel pressed together, and it’s not until Donghyuck pulls on Mark’s hair especially hard and he moans in surprise that Yukhei makes a quiet choked noise.

Donghyuck’s eyes flutter open and past the curve of Mark’s shoulder, he seeks out Yukhei. The guide has his hands clenched tight around the steering wheel, the soft line of his jaw tight with tension. Donghyuck drops one last kiss on Mark’s cheek and gently pushes him off.

At first, Mark’s confused, but then he follows Donghyuck’s line of sight and he blinks a couple times like he’s just coming out of a trance. “Oh,” he whispers softly, glancing back down at Donghyuck, unsure of what to do.

Donghyuck sighs, pushes Mark back some more until he’s not trapped under the older boy’s body and shimmies across the cup holders to the passenger seat. Instead of dropping into it though, he wiggles his way over to the driver's seat, and Yukhei makes a noise in protest and surprise.

He situates himself firmly in Yukhei’s lap, grins wide at the other boy’s big startled eyes, and says, “All you had to do was ask, baby.”

Donghyuck watches the hand Yukhei has on the steering wheel tighten, the tendon in his arm flexing for a second.

“This is unsafe,” he reasons, but Donghyuck hears the tremble in his voice, and it makes him giggle.

“There’s no one here but us,” Donghyuck reminds him, curling his arms over the taller boy’s neck. “There’s nothing for you to crash into.” Yukhei tips his head back, because from this angle, Donghyuck’s taller, and his lips part on instinct.

Donghyuck pulls him in, kisses him long and hard, and Yukhei groans quietly when they part, “You taste like Mark.”

He licks his lip instinctively. “What does Mark taste like?” he wonders, and from the back seat, Mark huffs out a laugh. Donghyuck leans in again, runs his tongue along the seam of Yukhei’s mouth, and Yukhei’s breath hitches, his eyes widening.

 “When’s the last time you were kissed? Before Mark, I mean,” Donghyuck asks, fingers dancing along the nape of Yukhei’s neck. The skin is warm there, silky under his hands, and Yukhei shudders when he presses down particularly hard, a full body reverberation that makes heat pool in Donghyuck’s stomach.

“I can’t remember,” he rasps, voice so low that Donghyuck feels it in his bones. One of his hands slips off the wheel and snakes around Donghyuck’s waist, holding him closer, and Donghyuck uses the hand he has on Yukhei’s neck to pull him in for another kiss.

Under his thumb, Yukhei’s pulse skips unevenly, and Donghyuck finds himself grinning into his mouth.

Donghyuck looks over Yukhei’s shoulder and catches Mark’s eyes. Mark mouths, “ _come here_ ,” and holds his arms out.

Donghyuck drops one last kiss to the corner of Yukhei’s swollen mouth and whispers into his ear, “I think someone’s jealous.”

“Both of you, come here,” Mark whines out loud this time.

It takes some fumbling, but Yukhei manages to stop the car around Donghyuck’s torso, and then they’re stumbling out the door and into the backseat, Donghyuck being sandwiched in the middle. There’s a little more space now, but it’s still a tight fit. Donghyuck pushes Yukhei back against the door again and kisses him hard, feels the silky warmth of Yukhei’s tongue on his.

Yukhei breaks the kiss, breathing hard, and Mark ducks in over Donghyuck’s shoulder to pick up where Donghyuck had left off. Donghyuck hears more than sees them make out for a while, all the while pressing his palm to Yukhei’s sternum to feel the uneven beat of his heart.

“This is ridiculous,” Donghyuck says after a second, because Mark’s elbow is digging into his back, and Yukhei’s legs are tucked into any space they’ll fit. Mark kisses the nape of his neck, lips wet and warm, and Donghyuck groans a curse under his breath, elbowing him gently. “It’s too crowded for this shit, come on.”

Mark finally stops trying to eat his neck and wraps his arms around his waist, pulling Donghyuck closer. “I love you,” he whispers into his shoulder.

Donghyuck sighs, “I love you too.”

Yukhei looks away again, a soft flush over his cheeks. Donghyuck rolls his eyes, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. Maybe he’s not quite ready for the words yet, but he doesn’t want Yukhei to feel left out of this…this thing, whatever it is.

“You guys are dumb,” Donghyuck says eventually, “And my leg’s starting to hurt from being bent like that. Can we go back to driving now?”

Mark reluctantly lets go of him, getting into the front of the car. Donghyuck closes his eyes, feels the rumble of the car under him, and tucks his face into Yukhei’s neck. “It’s okay to ask for things,” he mumbles into the warm skin there.

Yukhei hums back quietly, and then there’s a big hand slipping into his, their fingers twining together.

Donghyuck smiles.

-

The Gate is like nothing he’s ever seen before.

It’s all power-humming, pounding power that makes him ache to climb the steps. Donghyuck feels a cold sweat break out over his forehead. “How,” he whispers, already breathless, “How did you manage to-“

Mark smiles, soft and crinkly eyed. “Not without you,” he says simply. He turns to Yukhei, “Either of you.”

Donghyuck stands before the Gate and feels warmth wash over him. His fingers are intertwined with Mark’s and Yukhei’s, Mark’s fingers slim and cold like they always are, Yukhei’s big hands radiating heat.

Donghyuck takes a step forward, lets the light engulf him completely, all the while holding tight to them.

He’s never letting go again.

**Author's Note:**

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